


Child's Play

by anr



Category: The Pretender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-06
Updated: 2006-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-05 15:10:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr/pseuds/anr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She hates this part the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Child's Play

**Author's Note:**

> Request: porn, sunrise, and red pumps.

  


* * *

**California**

  


Jarod texts her at sunrise -- _UR it_ \-- and by lunchtime Broots has a location.

"1313 South Harbor Boulevard, Anaheim. The cell's registered to a Jarod Walt."

" _Disneyland?_ " she says. "You have got to be kidding me."

Broots reaches for the phone. "Should I call for the jet?"

_Kid's game, amusement park..._ this has wild goose chase written all over it.

"Do I _look_ like I want to sing 'It's A Small World'?" It's not often she can make Broots really squirm anymore, so her expression must be especially withering today.

Wincing, he puts the handset down again.

  


* * *

  


They go, of course, and talk to the Park's employees and officials. Security there is tight, but she's Centre so the contest ends quickly. Sydney finds Jarod's latest notebook; she finds a tombstone for her father in the Haunted Mansion's Graveyard. The date of birth is wrong, and she makes Broots run the numbers on-site.

"Well, it's definitely not a birth date," he says, turning the laptop her way. "But here, check this out."

Apparently, this isn't the first -- or even second -- time her father has died.

She's not all that surprised.

  


* * *

**Delaware**

  


He's sitting on the floor in her kitchen when she gets home, his back against the pantry door.

"I swept," he says. "The house is clean."

"So domestic." Her suit is worth more than a small car; she doesn't join him on the floor.

He follows her to her bedroom. "What did you find out?"

Jacket, shoes, belt. She keeps the latter in her hands as she backs him towards her bed. "What we already knew."

He undoes the buttons on her shirt one by one, and the belt falls from her grip when he gently bites the inside of her wrist. "More secrets," he says.

She nods, and pushes him down onto mattress. When she straddles him, he buries his hands in her hair and pulls her close enough to kiss. They move together slowly, insistently. He is all that she can breathe, and his name catches between her teeth when she comes.

  


* * *

  


He's gone before she wakes in the morning, but he calls her as she's driving to work.

"We need answers," he says. "We need --"

She hates this part the most. "I know."

  


* * *

**New York**

  


She gets inside his head (a pretend pretender pretending to be a pretender who's pretending) and finds him in a fifth floor walk up on the outskirts of China Town. He almost looks surprised to see her.

"How did you --?"

She kisses away his words. Kisses him against the wall, with her hands on his shoulders, his fingers brushing the inside of her thighs. He is hard against her and she bites her lip; he fingers her and the room spins.

Later, she looks around. It's been awhile since she's caught him mid-pretend and there are brand new red pumps sitting on his dresser. She picks one up and smiles.

"Always figured you more for a toeless black," she says. When she drops the shoe, it's only to reach for her cell.

He smiles as well, far too relaxed as he lies on the bed still. "What are you doing?"

"Calling you in."

He is up and in her face before she can hit dial. "You can't. I'm not ready yet."

She shrugs. "So?"

"Parker, please." She raises an eyebrow at his desperation and he reaches for a newspaper clipping: _Honor Roll Student Slain, No Witnesses_. "She was nineteen and on her way to a costume party. Dorothy Gale, Wizard of Oz. Left her dorm at seven o'clock and was found dead five hours later in an alley. She had no reason to be there, no enemies -- it just doesn't make sense." He throws the facts at her like she cares. "I need more time."

She laughs at his nerve. "More time? All because some college freshman was stupid enough to go knock off shopping and see something she shouldn't have? Fuck, Jarod -- this isn't a game! There's no time outs just because you forgot to tie both shoelaces before leaving the house."

She's pointing her cell at him like it's a gun, and he snatches it from her hands. When he throws it against the wall, something breaks. "I didn't leave," he says. "You broke in, remember?"

"Fine." She grabs her gun, grabs him. The kiss is angry, mean, and when they pull back, her right hook catches his chin. He slaps her back just as hard and she almost raises the Smith & Wesson.

"Twenty-four hours," he says. "Please." They're both breathing hard.

"You have eighteen."

She slams the door on her way out.

  


* * *

  


She returns in twelve -- Debbie's got a date at seven o'clock and there's no way she's letting Broots miss _that_ heart attack -- but Jarod's already gone. Looks like he only needed ten anyway.

He calls her over dinner. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That she bought those shoes in China Town?"

She shrugs. "The soles weren't hand-stitched." She doesn't have to be a genius to know Italian designers.

"We caught him," he says. "You and I. Together. Parker --"

"Forget it," she says, and hangs up.

  


* * *

**Delaware**

  


Lyle and Raines circle closer, closer. She is running out of oxygen, running and double-checking her shadow far more than she used to. She wakes each morning with her hand under her pillow, fingers curled around her gun, and the nightmares linger well past lunch. This cannot last.

Jarod calls, writes, slips into her bed at three am in the morning. "Come with me," he says, his hands lacing with hers against the pillow. "Together, together we can --"

Her laugh is bitter. "Die?"

" _Live_."

  


* * *

  


Jarod doesn't call for a week, and everywhere she looks there are questions and secrets and no answers.

She updates her will.

  


* * *

**Hawaii**

  


She meets him at sunset, and the lei around his neck glows in the fading light.

"Parker."

"Jarod."

When she kisses him, his hand finds the curve of her hip and holds there like that's where it belongs. It has been eleven days and a lifetime -- she almost admits to having missed him.

A bellhop clears his throat. "Mr and Mrs Damien?" They part slowly, maybe reluctantly, and turn towards his smile. "If you'll follow me, the honeymoon suite is right this way."

  


* * *

  


Three days later she sends the Centre a postcard.

_Catch us if you can._

  


* * *

The End

**Author's Note:**

> ORIGINAL URL: <http://anr.livejournal.com/256251.html>


End file.
